


Ouroboros

by roguefaerie (samidha)



Category: Babylon 5, Supernatural
Genre: Anarchist and Non-Anarchist Telepaths, Anarchy, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dean Has Powers, Decloaking Telepaths, Disability, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Platonic Soulmates, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Sam Has Powers, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Teeps - Freeform, Telepath War, Telepathy, Telepathy is Definitely a Dangerous Disability, crowd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-28 09:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12603460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/roguefaerie
Summary: The Supernatural characters land in/on Babylon 5. (The summary is, generally, the prompt.)





	Ouroboros

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loracine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loracine/gifts).



The more things change the more they stay the same.

Sam and Dean were on the run. That much had always been true.

They had taken a two-person passenger ship and Dean had landed it at the space station himself.

They were headed for the colony.

Sam was leading them right into the middle of the fray, and Dean knew.

Mary Campbell-Winchester had been unmedicated for as long as they could keep her that way and Sam and Dean were following in her footsteps as well as they could.

It was just that they had to find the--

\--the teeps--

\--and right now, Sam had a headache, a bad one, and Dean’s wasn’t far off either, but Sam’s were always worse because he--

\--Sam always dug deeper, went farther, felt more, found more, did more, at least when it came to this.

There were people who would never believe, not for a second, that the guy with the close cropped hair and the ship-landing skills could be _one of them_. 

But….

The worst would be if they didn’t believe him at the colony. Sam was leading them to the colony and if that didn’t work there wasn’t another plan.

They needed to find a damn teep-- they needed the teeps-- and they needed them fast. Quick, fast, in a hurry.

Dean could feel it from here, how if he wasn’t careful Sam’s head might pop the hell off. 

That’s what it felt like and Dean-- Dean wasn’t even good at this.

They stumble off of the two-seater and through the terminal at B5. Maybe nevermind the colony, maybe it was just time to find… _anyone_.

Anyone.

People come running to _them_ like they’re looking for _them_ and someone says, “It’s loud, you’re very loud,” and Dean remembers being small, in the living quarters of Missouri Moseley and how she had told him one day he might have to hide who he was.

He might have to….

He might have to do _anything_ to survive being a teep.

But Sam clears his throat. People are all around him. Trying to tell him how to be quiet. Quiet like they’ve been. So he isn’t found. Not like this.

And Sam shakes his head. “You don’t get it,” he says. “I had to get here. I had to be loud. I had to because--”

The group is listening raptly, they are coming out of the woodwork from everywhere and listening to Sam and his “let me feel your feelings, no I mean _feel your feelings_ ” therapist voice.

“I _had_ to,” Sam is saying, all earnest, “I need to…” He gestures vaguely, ducking his head a little and Dean knows he’s supposed to pick up the slack somehow here.

But dammit. He drove the ship. He kept it together. Now he has to, what, explain?

“I--” Dean says, and he’s swaying, he feels sick, he--

He can’t say it. He can’t tell them he’s a teep too. He’s never had to practice that, he’s practiced the goddamn _opposite_ of that and _he’s survived_.

He’s survived. And so has Sam. Even with all the marks against them, including the marks on their flesh.

Sam knows that he can’t, not now, and so Dean knows what’s coming. The big gestures and the soft and calm Sam-ness of everything: 

“I had to save my brother,” Sam says.

*~*~*

A man in a brown hood comes through one side of the crowd and grabs Sam’s arm. He lets out a series of rapid-fire, almost angry shushing noises.

He looks over the crowd, just as much of a warning in his eyes, and suddenly nobody is moving.

 _We’ll take you where you need to go_ , he says to Sam silently.

Dean hears it too, practically collapsing against Sam with the weight of it. Sam holds him up, practiced, steady. Home.

 _The colony_ , Sam says telepathically. _It’s the only way_.

There comes a knowing smirk. _Indeed. We’ll take you. You’ll get there. Just--learn to_ shut up. _Quiet. Quiet yourself. Now._

The air is so tense they can barely breathe.

It’s Sam’s only chance. He has to.

“Feel sick, Sammy,” Dean whispers. “Help.”

The crowd is too much. They both know it. Everyone present and accounted for can tell it.

They’re seeing a teep find his way. And those that are good and just will look away and let him find it.

If Dean is really saying those words, asking for help, he truly does need it.

Sam supports Dean on one side while the man--purely in the interest of getting two totally out of control teeps _out_ of view, supports Dean on the other side, and gets him moving.

Forward.

There is safety, of a kind.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Loracine.


End file.
